Venom Tea Party

The air is clear…

And thick with demons.

Bees.

Buzzing, zipping, stinging—

This is no plague of locusts,

This is not a punishment for humanity,

This is a torture of Me.

I stand still

and hide my swatting…

You see a flower

I turn to the mirror–

I see one, too

But being sucked bone-dry

Pierced by demons…

I’m used for honey.

I’m buzzed, honey.

Sweet poison

Cycling through now.

So dizzy, but somehow

Rooted to the spot.

The air, thick as water—

I’m drowning

In air

And all

H

O

P

E
sinks

To the bottom.

These bees, thriving underwater

(Demons are bees

That follow you

Even when you’re wise enough to escape

By slipping below the surface)

And suddenly—

In the broad daylight—

You realize these tiny holes will never mend

You’ve finally gone down the deepest end

And everyone is shouting “Look, a suicide!”

When they see your body

Around the bend

Floating on past

Down the bed

When really it was murder.

And your story—that you were only trying to save yourself!—

Is written all wrong.

And you’re just a pile unbruised petals

With a drained core

Surrounded by bees

That no one sees.

With honey flowing

From swollen cheeks

And they ask “Poor girl, why?”

“She was a lily”

“A rose”

And say the stem could speak

She’d say

“Ah

But

That was the mistake.”

So in the next life

She burned Eden

And married the snake.

 


 

photograph by this french dude

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